Waltz of Her Life

It was the response Linda expected, but she still felt deflated after hearing the words. She knew his reasoning, too but she still asked him "Why?"

He turned his eyes away from the television to look at her while he responded. Since he had taken off his glasses, she could see that his eyes were getting slightly bulgy. How long had they been like that? "Linda, we've finally built things up to where they were before all the fallout. We're getting a good return now. If I let you take five hundred of those dollars away just because you still want to be belle of the ball, we could lose thousands. Maybe hundreds of thousands."

Linda felt stunned by the "belle of the ball" remark. "That's kind of scornful, wouldn't you say?"

Stephen had taken a sip of beer, to punctuate his argument. But when he saw his wife's reaction, he sighed and his features softened. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound harsh. But it's true. At our age we have to look ahead. And with the returns I'm getting, we have to put every dollar we can in there."

To her, Stephen was least attractive when he talked investments. She noticed his pot belly and his wrinkles more. Whatever happened to the phrase You can't take it with you? Quietly, she said "You're not into derivatives again, are you?"

"No," he said, stretching the one syllable word to two, looking hurt by her insinuation. "It's futures, pharmaceuticals. Healthcare companies. You, more than anyone else should know what a growth industry that is."

For all her desire to start dancing again, she realized that Stephen was partially right.

They'd both worked too hard all these years to spend their retirement in possible squalor. And on top of that, they had Matthew's college education to think of. There was no guarantee that one of the big universities would pay his ride because of his blocking ability. She found a nice movie for them to watch, a romantic comedy with action, and sat beside him, holding his hand.

She did her best thinking in the morning, before work. Roger had been so charming, to seek her out, pleasantly ask her for her help, and then treat her to a few gloriously romantic dances. He was a good kid. She wanted to help him. As she cruised down the interstate in her hybrid, it occurred to her to make him a counter offer. By scrimping her, saving there and accepting cash from her co-workers for shift changes and other favors, she could come up with two hundred dollars a month without even thinking about it. The money would never show on their statements or accounts. Stephen would never have to know.